


Foot Prince

by Roadstergal



Category: Into the Woods - Sondheim/Lapine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-15
Updated: 2006-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:51:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1634927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prince on a quest meets a witch with a soft spot for dragons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foot Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Written for slainte

 

 

The wooden tavern was old and weather-beaten. Its peeling paint and creaking, swinging sign indicated that it had stood for many years, serving cheap food and drink to poor people, providing shelter to any wayfarers who might come by. On a cold, rainy night, its warm torchlight and the scent of food cooking would be a welcome sight for a weary traveler. On a warm spring day, the place looked foul and smelled worse.

It was on such a warm spring day, when the tavern was host to only a few bedraggled patrons who were too old to work, that a traveler stepped in, looking around a little dubiously. He was dressed in fine steel armor, chased with silver; a broadsword hung at his waist, its scabbard tooled to match the armor. A red velvet cape hung from his shoulders. From his fine leather boots - which picked their way through the filthy straw uncertainly - to his handsome, blond head, he was a sight that this tavern did not see in the normal course of things.

"Good people! I am on a on a Quest!" he said, his deep voice echoing dramatically off of the wooden walls.

An old man who was playing chess looked up for a moment. "I know that feller, Bel" he muttered to his opponent. It's Prince Valiant."

Bel looked up, squinting. "No, that's Prince Darling. I'd know him anywhere. Seen the pictures."

The traveler cleared his throat, annoyance crossing his features. "I am _Prince Daring_! I am here to slay a dragon."

"Tolja," Bel said, leaning back over the board. "Prince Darling."

The prince took a deep breath to correct the chess players, when a husky, dark voice came from the end of the bar. "What did the dragon ever do to you?"

The prince squinted through the smoky air. It was a tavern wench - a rather pretty one, true, with curly brown hair and full breasts, but a wench nonetheless. "None of your concern, wench!" he barked.

She glared at him, her eyes unusually piercing. The prince knew that eyes were just sacs of liquid (he had punctured some himself), and that there was no logical way in which they could be _piercing_ , but he could think of no other way to express how arresting those eyes were. Fortunately, he was spared from further thought (which tended to make his brain ache) by the arrival of another traveler.

The new arrival looked every bit as much out of place as Prince Daring did. His uniform was ceremonial, not functional, and his features were handsome and aristocratic. "Cousin!" he said, his voice even deeper than Daring's.

"Cousin Charming!" Daring replied. He felt slightly annoyed. Charming was not the most useful man in a scrap. "I did not expect to meet you here."

"What brings you here, cousin?" Charming asked, stepping through the filth on the floor with as much offended delicacy as Daring had.

Daring knew the importance of making this next statement dramatically. He put his left hand on his hip, his right on his scabbard, stuck his chest out, and made it dramatically. "I come to slay a giant and liberate these people!"

The wench barked out an unamused laugh. "Do they look terribly un-liberated to you?" she asked, swinging her hand around to indicate the inhabitants of the tavern, who were paying little attention to the exchange. She added, in a mutter, "Jackass."

Such rudeness - from a _woman_ \- could not be tolerated, Daring decided. He stepped forward, pulling out a glove with the intent of delivering a little lesson in courtesy.

Charming grabbed Daring's arm. "Er, cousin, I wouldn't do that."

"I merely wish to teach this wench some respect..." Daring said, through his teeth.

Charming shook his head. "She's a witch, cousin. And a rather good one, at that. You remember my brother? The one who married the girl with the silly name?"

"Yes." Daring pondered for a moment. "What was her name? Reggie? Robert?"

"It's not important. Well, she was that witch's daughter, and once he got bored," Charming sighed, "as we tend to, and woke a sleeping beauty - well, the witch put a little... spell on him."

"A spell?" Daring asked.

Charming leaned forward, conspiratorially. "The little prince is not so happy these days, shall we say. It's a good idea to be _nice_ to her, cousin."

Daring looked heavenward. "What is this world coming to?"

The witch watched this exchange, a small smile spreading over her face. She slid off of the bar stool and stepped closer to the two Princes. "Would you like to be led to this fearsome dragon that you wish to slay?" she purred.

"Yes!" Daring said, trying not to sound as eager as he felt. This _was_ the wench who had just insulted him, after all. "You know of it?"

"Yeeeees," the witch said, pulling the word out and meeting his eyes with that disconcerting stare of hers. "I can take you to its lair."

Daring belatedly re-struck his dramatic pose. There were Proper Ways of doing these things, after all. "Then lead on! I will face this monster without fear."

"Without brains, too," the witch muttered. She turned and strode out of the tavern.

Daring sighed. "What is this world coming to?" he repeated.

Charming grinned. "I think she likes you, cousin. I've never seen her so polite!"

The witch was not in the least bit winded by the time she had lead the two Princes to a rocky bluff. Her spider-silk cape floated behind her in the fresh summer breeze as she strode to a small cave entrance, then spun to face the two Princes. They stumbled up behind, sweating and puffing. Daring was starting to realize that steel armor had its drawbacks.

"This is not my line of work, cousin!" Charming panted. "I am made to dance on marble floors, not climb on craggy rock."

Daring could not keep the fatigue out of his voice. "You're charming, not useful."

"You hardly appear in a good state either, my good cousin!" Charming snapped back.

"I am Daring. That is not an endurance event." Daring paused with gratitude as he saw that the witch had stopped. "Where is the lair?" Please, he thought silently, let it not be too far away.

"Right here." The witch pointed at the small cave. "The dragon lives within."

Daring pulled in a few more deep breaths, then drew his sword. It flashed dangerously in the sun. "Stand back! I will face the evil head-on!"

The witch smiled. "You're _so_ brave." She ducked into the cave, making kissy coaxing noises. A dragon came waddling out of the cave in response. It was everything that a dragon should be - scaly, taloned, a dangerous shade of red, possessed of razor-sharp teeth and batlike wings, and fire spat from its nostrils. However, it was not quite waist-high. It glanced up at the group curiously.

Daring looked down on the little creature in disbelief. "Is _this_ the fearsome dragon?"

"Yes," the witch replied. "Are you going to lop its head off?" She picked it up and petted that scaly head. It closed its glowing yellow eyes and chirruped in pleasure.

Daring put his sword into the earth point-first and rested his head in his hand. "My lady will _not_ be impressed," he groaned.

"What, you don't think she'll find you to be a Manly Prince if you bring her this," she held the dragon up, "mounted to a little bitty wooden board?"

"I thought it would be bigger," Daring muttered.

"She'll say something similar, I'm sure," the witch replied. Charming stifled a laugh. "It's just a young one," she continued. "Not a century old. In six or seven centuries, it'll be twice as big. In a millennium, it will be enormous!"

"That's not soon enough for me!" Daring protested.

The witch shook her head and sighed. "Mortals..."

Daring thrust his sword back into its scabbard with anger. "What will I _do_?"

The witch raised her eyebrows. "Well, you could _try_ being a good man, a sage ruler, and a considerate husband..."

Charming interrupted her. "That will _never_ work." He put his arm around Daring's shoulders. "You see, the problem with being daring, my cousin, is that you have to have something against which to _show_ your daring. That's why I am what I am. Charming is completely autonomous."

Daring sighed heavily. "You have a point, my cousin. But you have already cornered the market on charming. There's no room for _me_."

"There's always room!" Charming replied. "You don't have to be _charming_. You can be suave, or sexy, or noble, or sweet..." Charming paused. "No, better not be noble. That's too abstract."

Daring stroked his chin with his hand. "Sexy. I like that. Prince Sexy. It has a ring to it."

Charming turned, his arm still on Daring, and urged the man down the rocky slope. "Let us make it so, then, cousin!"

The witch watched them go, shaking her head and petting the dragon. "Mortals," she muttered, snickering.

 


End file.
